


Competing Jesters

by gvarchangel



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gvarchangel/pseuds/gvarchangel
Summary: Just a little fluff piece I wrote for my current D&D character and his partner in crime/performance.





	Competing Jesters

_It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday, and the manager gives me a smile... _Jingles sings, keeping his voice only slightly louder than his music. Usually he has to compete with tavern noise as well, but not here. Jesters, particularly himself, are respected enough in The Red Hook to have their own stage constructed, and their audience to shut up during performances.

_'Cause she knows that it's me they've been coming to see, to forget about life for a while... _

He mimes playing a piano across his table, and the proper notes fill the air. His usual performances involve playing a lute while his magic gives him accompaniment. But for his “Table Piano” act, the audience reacts better to a clown getting music out of a normal piece of furniture.

_And the piano sounds like a festival, and my bar stool smells like a beer. They sit at the bar and put coin in my jar, and say, “Man, what are you doin' here?” _

Jingles shows off a little and pretends to play with only one hand. That gets a small burst of laughter, but it's nothing compared to the roar he earns when he plays with his feet. He's performed this one across the continent, all just practice for his bi-annual performance at this particular tavern. There'll be someone in particular he wants to impress this winter.

_Sing us a song, clown piano man... _he sings, pretending to focus on his instrument part again. _Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody. And you've got us feeling alright. _

He begins winding the song down to its familiar close. The door of the tavern opens on the other side of the floor, spraying a crack of late afternoon light the audience. No one look up to see who the newcomer is. All three dozen of the patrons paid good coin to see this performance, and they won't let a stranger ruin it for them.

Suddenly, the clown's table betrays him. A sparkling golden dragon erupts from the wood and lunges at him. Jingles scrambles back in a roll, his hands already drawing a sickle and dagger. His cool blue eyes flash to orange as he swings at the beast. It roars and dodges by an inch. Half of the crowd is standing in their seats with eyes glued, and the other are desperately looking for the exit.

The performer almost attacks again when he notices the table is still intact. With a hidden, knowing smile, he opens his arms wide and shouts, “Take me, you beautiful creature!”

It accepts the sacrifice. The small dragon rears back and roars a cascade of glorious fire on the clown. Everyone in the audience is convinced they're watching the spectacular death of a Jester.

But the glittering breath flows only flows around his body. Jingles holds the pose, enjoying the attention. When the “attack” ends, the dragon stands on its back legs and roars again. It makes the glasses of ale rattle on their tables. Then the creature takes to the air, flying over the patrons and towards the tavern's entrance. Most of those directly in its path duck.

It performs a brief aerial spin, then lands regally beside the newcomer. Dressed almost identically to the performer on stage, there's no mistaking them for anything other than another Jester. Both wear the distinct red costume, both with the featureless pantomime mask and jingling hat, both with a sickle on one hip and an instrument on their back. But most would agree the dragon tamer is more composed: their bow shines from obvious care, and the patches that have repaired their costume are a consistent royal blue.

Jingles laughs and bows to them from the stage. Several of the audience look to him for an explanation. “Clearly, I need lessons on dramatic entrances,” he says through a chuckle. His eyes have already come back to the cool blue they were before. “And I believe I'm looking at just the teacher.”

The newcomer laughs. Other than her slim build, her voice is the first sign this other Jester is a woman. “Perhaps I will trade you for ones in music. I've never seen anyone get such sounds out of a table.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the clown on stage announces. “May I present the ever-darling Arwen and her ever-terrifying pet.”

She returns his curtsey as the crowd applauds her. “I thank you, as does Rex. Please, bow as well: you deserve it more than myself.”

The small dragon leans forward and lowers its head to the ground. As it stands to further clapping, its owner opens a small canteen. It turns to dust that flows into the bottle without a sound.

“You will be fine in there until dinner. We'll find you a nice sheep, I promise,” she says and pats the canteen into her chest pouch. Just like Jingles, a strange chuckle is almost always in her voice, obscuring some of her words.

The innkeeper shouts from behind the bar, “We were starting to worry about you. Your partner has been waiting for three days now.”

Arwen waves in acknowledgment while approaching the stage. “I'm terribly sorry, Samantha. Our caravan ran into that bugbear problem you were having to the north.”

“Guess that's the safest way to go now?” Sam is already pouring an ale for the Jester, to match the one her partner has been nursing for the last half hour.

“If you wish to avoid bugbears particularly. Their hobgoblin's convinced the road will electrocute them if they touch it without shoes.” Arwen laughs happily.

The crowd joins in her chuckle. Jingles helps his partner onto the stage with a hand. She accepts, and uses it to pull herself up. They exchange a pair of masked cheek kisses before taking a step apart.

Sam approaches from the side, ale in hand. As Arwen reaches for the drink, Jingles' voice appears in her mind. “A gold dragon? That's really the best you could come up with?”

“I believe it worked well enough. Your leap was proof of that,” she replies telepathically. This particular spell requires actually whispering, which makes it easier to cast, but harder to hide. However, Jester masks helps conceal any conversations they would like to have alone.

“What can I say? I've been on edge lately. I've missed my dear friend.”

“We shall see who missed who more soon enough.” Her laughter is audible this time, enough for Sam to notice, but barely react to. She's mostly acclimated to the Jesters and their penchant for unexplained giggles. “But I believe we have a performance to put on first.”

Now standing with her drink, Arwen does a quick spin. In less than three seconds, she puts her back to the audience, lifts the mask to her nose, swallows a large sip of ale, and lowers the covering back down. Just like that, her thirst is sated, and only the other Jester in the room knows what lies beneath the costume.

“What shall the bet be this time?” she asks with her mind. “A public surrender to the superior performer? Perhaps a polishing of the other's weapons?”

“Both should be enough. We shall be more creative with tomorrow's wager,” Jingles agrees silently.

Standing side by side, the Jesters are eyed expectantly by the waiting crowd. Arwen looks to her competitor and produces a single silver coin. “Heads or tails?”

He knocks on the side of his skull, and an empty echo sounds. After a moment, the audience realizes it's an illusion and laughs.

She flips the coin high into the air, and catches it in her open palm. The emblem of a horse is clearly on display.

“My fabulous audience, I thank you for coming to see us,” she announces, stepping towards the crowd in a grand pose. Her pack falls to the side with only a slight thud. “I could make you extravagant promises about our performances. How they will be everything you've ever wanted in a night of entertainment, how they will leave each and every one of you with a smile, or that no one will forget the spectacles you're about to witness...

“But I won't. Because I know your own kind words will describe what you feel tonight greater than I can.” She pauses as applause greets her. Not one of the thirty-six members of her crowd doesn't at least take part.

Eventually, it dies down enough for her to be heard again. “What I can promise is this. Jingles and I shall compete tonight for your applause. Two entertainers from one of the finest colleges in the land will be trying to prove who is better to each other, and to you. And I promise that I have yet to hear someone who observes such a duel leave disappointed. So make sure your ears are clean and your eyes are open wide. I would hate for you to miss a moment.”

Arwen doesn't waste a second. With a sweeping hand, she commands the wind to close every window and douse every torch. The room becomes midnight black instantly. Then the Jester produces a small light in her hand, a tiny golden orb pulsing like a lightning bug. It begins circling her, dodging her attempts to catch it again. After sufficiently irritating her, it drifts a few feet above her head.

Then it explodes into a brief shower of sparks. The loud pop makes a dozen voices gasp in surprise. Arwen waits a beat before creating three more of the tiny illusions. They immediately fly over the crowd in a mad cyclone before detonating at opposite corner of the audience. Only one member tries to dodge the sparks that rain down, but he laughs when he realizes they're harmless.

The Jester creates a cluster of orbs in her hand, and she throws them at each member of the crowd. They're all caught easily, and pause to hover before their new owner. All but one, a special red one that perches itself on Jingles' shoulder. They take a different shape in a blink, changing from simple spheres to tiny kittens. A collective “aww” falls over the audience as they try to pet the creatures. The illusions drift up and just over head level, floating a moment. When these explode, they takes different colors to form a rainbow across the room.

Again, the one sent to Jingles proves to be an exception. It becomes a tiny red dragon that cutely burps flames at his mask. He laughs before crushing it in his hand. Arwen shrugs coyly when their gazes meet.

She takes the dragon theme and runs with it. A dozen illusions of the creatures, each about the size of a tankard and glowing a different color, fly from her hand. They circle the stage in a slow, gorgeous tornado. Arwen dances with them, pretending to catch and release the small lizards. None of them seem to mind their master playing with them.

Suddenly, the ballet turns into a blitz. They start to war with each other, belching tiny flames and clawing at their companions. The Jester makes a show of dodging the crossfire with several spins. They leave the stage to continue their dogfight over the crowd. This time, no one tries to get out of the way. The audience unflinchingly watches the aerial show above them, adding the appropriate “oohs” and “ahhs”.

A new light appears on the stage, then flies across the room. One of the dragons disappears when a glowing arrow pierces its side. Arwen looks back to see Jingles arming his crossbow with another magical bolt.

“Don't pretend you didn't expect this,” he says to her mind before shooting another dragon out of the sky.

“As long as you expect the same on your turn.” The illusionist sics her pets on her competitor.

Jingles hits one more with his crossbow before they're on top of him. He swaps his weapon for his sickle as the creatures breathe their tiny fires on him. His costume glows crimson where each attack hits, an indication to all whether or not he would be alive.

In a mad spiral, his blade slashes through the illusions. The crowd applauds the fight with whistles and gusto. He carves his way through almost half of the dragons before his entire body is lit up. Deciding to go with it, he puts his hand over his heart in feigned pain. He shuffles to one side before collapsing, his sickle skittering across the floor. The dragons land on his body and let out tiny roars of victory. The cheering response shows who's side the crowd is really on.

Arwen opens the bottle she held earlier, and Rex erupts from his captivity. His miniature companions fly to his face and begin licking him. They make a chirping most would assume means friendliness in baby dragon.

“They dearly love their father, don't they?” the Jester asks her crowd. Through all of the claps and “awws,” she turns to the pet. “Rex, why don't you show the little ones how it's done?”

The larger illusion spreads its wings and lets out a majestic roar. His pets circle him in an organized formation. Without any kind of running start, Rex leaps over the crowd into a controlled flight. Several hands try to touch him as he glides over their heads. He pays them no heed as he circles the room, expertly dodging the support beams and taller patrons. The little ones continue their acrobatics around their flying father, creating vague shapes as they dive around his wings and neck.

For Rex's final trick, he lets out a burst of fire from his nose. It hits the wall behind the stage, and quickly dies off. Rather, parts of it does. The remaining flames spell a single word, “Arwen.”

The illusion lands beside its master and rubs its head on her. She laughs while petting the creature. “I love you too, sweetie,” she says loudly to him and the audience.

Not to be ignored, the little ones pester her for attention. They form a line at her feet, chirping and hopping. Arwen takes a single finger and scratches each of their chins. “I didn't forget about you babies, don't worry.”

Arwen takes her canteen and displays it to her pets. Each of them sit with rapt attention. “Say goodnight to these wonderful people. They've been so kind,” she orders with a gentle laugh.

As the crowd cheers, the dragons turn to them. Rex bows first, as majestically as ever, and the babies follow suit. Apart from the one on the end, who can't quite figure out how to and just rolls over with a happy tail wag.

The Jester opens the bottle, and the pets turn to dust. The canteen sucks them in without any fuss. Arwen closes the lid before giving another bow in the darkened room, only her glowing costume showing light. A standing ovation comes up to greet her.

With a loud, only slightly manic laugh, she waves her hand across the room again. The windows come open, and early evening light lets everyone see again. She then uses a finger gun to light the torches she so rudely put out earlier.

“I thank you for being such a wonderful crowd,” she announces, another laugh obscuring her words. “And that was only the first round. Wait until you see what else I have in store for you.”

“Am I allowed to get back up yet?” Jingles asks, still laying on the ground. It's fairly impressive he's held the pose with how uncomfortable it looks.

“No, you died: you must stay there until the undertaker arrives,” Arwen says before offering a hand to help him.

Her partner happily accepts the gesture. Climbing to his feet, he gives her a quick hug. “Excellent recovery,” he whispers in her ear.

“Shooting my dragons? That's really the best you could come up with?” she replies with another hushed laugh.

They release each other with a courteous nod. “I didn't want to disrupt your warm up.”

“And now, my lovely crowd,” Arwen announces with a dramatic hand wave. “Please, show my partner the same kindness you have shown me. And let us hear it for the for the amazing and only slightly foolish Jingles!”

The male clown steps forward and bows. The already invigorated crowd cheers for the performer. He puts all of his equipment away, bringing out only his pristine lute.

“While my wonderful colleague, and I do mean wonderful in every sense of the word,” he says, “likes to use magic, I have found there are simpler ways to make people smile. Humor, music, and stories can accomplish it just the same, without having to resort to pretty parlor tricks.”

Jingles feels a cold breeze at his back, a friendly jab from his partner. He knows how little effort it would take from her to turn it into a shard of ice sticking out of his leg.

“So let us test that theory, shall we? With something as universally understood as romance. And to all of the men in a relationship here tonight, do not pretend you don't. You had to woo your wives somehow. Based off what I'm seeing from here... I doubt it was your good looks.”

A roar of laughter proves the joke landed better as he feared. He remembers when he tried that a few towns over and ended up fleeing the locals with pitchforks.

Jingles lowers his lute before him. He cracks his neck with a tilt and gently chuckles under his breath. “Let's knock them dead, Jessie. Just not literally.”

He focuses his magic, and another lute joins his picking on Jessie's strings. It's only a rhythm, a beat to keep the pace while he performs the melody. He keeps his tempo controlled, but the audience can feel his energy trying to pull it along. _Something like a strong wind is coming over me, has got a hold of me... _he sings. Walking across the stage, his head bobs with the beat. The bells on his hat add a bit of percussion to the song. _Thinking and doing things I shouldn’t be, I really shouldn’t be..._

The rhythm guitar seems to multiply as invisible drums fill the air. Jingles picks up his pace with the new ensemble. Without the player holding himself back, the song feels more alive, especially as he hops across the stage. _It's one more performance, to one more, “whatcha doing right now?” to one more trip to my side of town, and you walk right in. It leads to one more “here we go again.”_

He spins on a foot, facing his partner trying to observe the show. _One more drink leads to another, you slide up close to me... _he sings as he merrily approaches Arwen. _Tear the costumes off each other, your hands all over me._

_I tell myself I’m not in love, but one more time is not enough. _Just as he reaches her, she laughs and gives him a slight push back on the shoulder. It doesn't deter his advance or music at all. _One last kiss and then I'm a goner. And I’m here wishing you could stay a little longer._

She gives him a dismissive wave as his ensemble finds a middle between the initial restraint and the chorus' rush. Jingles' strums fall back to the starting melody, belting out the catchy tune. The crowd lets out a small groan as Arwen walks away from her partner. He takes a few backwards steps towards the crowd before turning to face them.

“Come on, help me out here,” he laughs loudly. “Guess I'm rusty at this.”

His audience gives a whistling cheer of enthusiasm, the females seemingly leading the charge. He gives a nod back in thanks, still facing them as he continues into the next verse.

_So calm and so cool, yeah, I try to be, like you don’t bother me... _The main melody continues from his invisible entourage while he adds improvised riffs wherever he feels like it. _The last time was the last time until we're all alone. Then we're locking up the doors, oh... _

As he starts making another approach, Arwen gives him the literal cold shoulder. With a clap of her hands, she produces an icy knife. She throws it at his feet, which he spins to dodge. But the blade explodes into a sheet of ice twice as wide as his shoulders. This he doesn't get out of the way of in time, nearly landing on his face as he stumbles forward.

He salvages it by letting his left leg slide back across the ice, landing in a perfect split. Several of the men in the audience groan, but the clown doesn't miss a beat. _It's one more performance, to one more, “whatcha doing right now?” to one more trip to my side of town, and you walk right in. It leads to one more “here we go again.”_

Jingles lets his magical companions continue the song while he stands up. His laughter is the only thing stopping him from groaning from his unplanned stretch. But he refuses to yield. Jessie's strums join in as he walks towards her again. The crowd claps for his dedication. _One more drink leads to another, you slide up close to me. Tear the costumes off each other, your hands all over me._

She doesn't push him off this time. Instead, she lets him lean the forehead of his mask against her while he continues to sing. _I tell myself I’m not in love, but one more time is not enough._ _One last kiss and then I'm a goner. And I’m here wishing you could stay a little longer._

Then everything stops. Jessie's music, the magic entourage, Jingles' singing: all of it. The crowd takes a moment to notice the silence and stop their own sounds. They all watch curiously as the Jesters stare at each other.

“Stay a little longer,” he says in the same rhythm as the song. He is somehow both whispering to Arwen and announcing to those watching. It sounds more like a plead than a statement. “Please, just stay a little longer.”

The Jesters continue to lock eyes for a moment, his cool blue matching her dark green. There's an odd tension to the room. Not between them, but the crowd. Like they're intruding on something too intimate for a public stage.

“Hey, everyone...” Jingles gently announces. “I think she likes me too.”

That's when the clowns break into laughter. They each take a step apart, ending the intimacy as the crowd joins in. It's not the strongest laughter he's ever gotten, but it's a solid reaction to their joke.

“Come on now, everyone. Find your partner and sing along,” he shouts over the crowd. Then the music resumes like it did before, a mad rush of energy fitting for a Jester's chorus.

_One more drink leads to another, you slide up close to me. Tear the costumes off each other, your hands all over me._

As ordered, everyone in the room finds their love interest and adds their own voice to the song. Jingles and Arwen continue a lighter version of their on-stage romance, her voice adding a soft harmony to his. _I tell myself I’m not in love, but one more time is not enough._ _One last kiss and then I'm a goner. And I’m here wishing you could stay a little longer._

When the chorus ends, the clown keeps the energy alive. His magic maintains the background instruments while he steps into the role of front man. The earlier improvisations are nothing compared to what he and Jessie begin to create. It's only when he begins to focus on the lute that he finally steps away from Arwen.

He spends the next two minutes making the scattered music in his mind a reality. His pace never slows, and the song never suffers for its randomness. If anything, it gives it a certain life, a bit of originality. It doesn't hurt the man behind it all is putting more energy into it than his thin frame should be able to. Hopping, swaying, and dancing with his music, the crowd can't help but feed off him.

As Jingles begins a slow climb up the scale, building towards an obvious climax, he takes a few steps back. The crowd, still cheering enthusiastically, watches him. On the final chord, he makes a standing leap onto Arwen's ice puddle. He lands on his knees and slides forward as the cut off rings in the still air. Thankfully Sam has taken care of her stage, saving the clown from a cluster of splinters in his legs. He leans back in his victorious pose, raises Jessie over his head, and collapses backward. The crowd, predictably, goes wild.

“Were you going for romantic, or overly dramatic?” Arwen laughs at her partner as she approaches.

He barely hears her comment over the crowd. “Well, I was the one paying attention during Pennywise's lessons.”

He surrenders Jessie to her, then takes the other hand to help himself up.

Arwen eyes the lute curiously, feeling the magic in it trying to lash out. Even if it gets past her magical defenses, she knows her fractured mind can take the hit as easily as Jingles' did. “You find the strangest things,” she notes. “I've never seen an instrument try to bite me simply for touching it.”

“Jessie is special. I will happily tell you about her tonight.” He takes it back and drapes the strap over his shoulder.

“I expect nothing less. After we reacquaint ourselves, darling.” The female Jester steps up to the crowd. “And that, my new friends, was only the first round. Please, keep in mind who you believe is winning as the night goes on. I need your help to prove to Jingles I really am better than him.”

“And I need your help to prove how delusional she is,” her partner immediately responds. It's not clear who the crowd is laughing at more.

Arwen drifts across the stage with practiced grace and digs into her pack for a prop. “A second opinion, if you would be so kind,” she asks Jingles. “A trick with the bow, or the flute?”

“Flute,” he says after a brief moment of thought.

Arwen laughs and pulls out her bow. She taps the end of it to his mask as she takes her place in front of the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> A pretty simple piece that doesn't really need a big "story so far" thing at the beginning, but two quick clarifications for the curious. First, this duel of the Jesters is pretty standard for any of these guys who find themselves in the same town. They usually end up putting on a cooperative show before it's all said and done, but competitions are almost always a forgone conclusion. Second clarification is Jingles and Arwen's relationship is slightly abnormal for Jesters. They're all casually intimate and instantly friendly with each other, rarely settling down with one in particular. It's not unheard of, but these two being committed to each other is definitely more the exception than the rule. (Which my DM is already using against poor Jingles, but that's besides the point.) 
> 
> And for anyone really curious, this is all before the campaign starts. Which, of course, means everything got sad and dramatic when the campaign got going. ~MGA


End file.
